


After the War

by OrionCohen



Category: Ender Series - Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrionCohen/pseuds/OrionCohen
Summary: The Bugger war has ended, Ender can't return to Earth, and the members of his Jeesh are disappearing.There will be multiple chapters, primarily focusing on Bean and Peter's perspectives.
Relationships: Bean & Ender Wiggin & Petra Arkanian, Bean & Nikolai Delphiki, Bean & Peter Wiggin, Hyrum Graff & Bean, Hyrum Graff & Peter Wiggin, Petra Arkanian/Bean
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Bean was already uncomfortable when Mother had squeezed him into a wool pullover, which rested on top of his school uniform blazer, v-neck sweater, and button down shirt, which, in turn, rested over a plain undershirt. But that spoke nothing to the dissenting feelings he had towards the scarf, which seemed to act as more of a neck brace, wool hat, which she pulled down to his eyes, blinding him to the top third of his visual field, winter boots, which prevented him from moving at any speed exceeding a slow shuffle, and finally snow pants. But of course, that still wasn’t enough to head out the door in. Mother had to stuff him into one more coat, this one a puffy winter coat, to be satisfied that a child who survived as an urchin in the freezing streets of Rotterdam as a toddler would make it to school without dropping dead..   
“Nikolai, when you two get to school, be a good older brother and walk Julian to his classroom” Mother instructed  
“Oh of course” responded Nikolai with a smirk and intentionally patronizing tone “wouldn’t want him getting lost on his first day!”  
Bean shot Nikolai a death glare as if to say “there is no way in Hell that you’re walking me to my classroom”  
Once dressed to face an avalanche, he and Nikolai walked, or rather, waddled, out the door. It took them an embarrassingly long amount of time to get out of eye shot from Mother, at which point they began pulling off layers. They made the walk mostly in silence. When finally they did arrive, they seperated almost immediately. Bean was going to be in the 3rd grade, Nikolai in the 6th.   
“You sure you don’t need help finding the classroom, I could hold your hand?” asked Nikolai.  
“But then who’ll wipe my ass for me?” Bean asked. Nikolai laughed and they parted ways.  
Bean found his classroom easily, the other desks were empty, the other students were yet to arrive. There was a young woman sitting at a larger wooden desk that was off to the side of the room. Bean looked up at the board, where another woman was writing out arithmetic problems. Bean looked up at the number above the door, which identified this as room S201. He was in the right room, had there been a mistake in his schedule?  
“Excuse me, ma’am. I think I’m in the wrong room” The woman at the board turned to face Bean.   
“What grade are you in, young man?”  
“Third, but I’m supposed to be in the gifted program”  
She beamed at him “You must be Julian, I’m so excited to have you in my class. You’re in the right place, you can take a seat. My name’s Mrs. Lennin, I’ll be your teacher. And this is Ms. Davis, our assistant teacher”   
The reality hit Bean then. This is what gifted 8 year olds do, they learn arithmetic. What were the normal students learning? How to count to ten? Bean looked at the problems again, each based on the order of operations, which was presumably the lesson for today. He took a seat in the back and started up the desk they had fixed in front of each seat. It automatically pulled up a set of problems similar to the ones on the board.   
“If you want extra practice on what we’re learning, you can use the desk for practice sheets” Ms. Davis said, walking over to Bean “Or, you can switch over to the notes function, to take notes on the class, if you click the little envelope icon at the bottom of the screen, you’ll Email yourself your notes” Bean smiled at her indulgently.  
“Great” he said, as other students began filtering in. After a few more minutes, the class started. Mrs. Lennin insisted on bringing Bean to the front of the classroom and to formally introduce him to his peers, most of whom were regarding him like he was a god, the rest with resentment. Finally, thought Bean, some familiar territory. He was used to the mixed reactions of one’s peers that comes when you’re the best. The admirement and resentment each getting stronger as the intellectual gap became more pronounced. Bean had become annoyingly aware that his place in Ender’s jeesh had given him celebrity status, he had known to expect this reaction from his peers and the predictability provided him with some comfort.  
Bean took his seat in the back when his introduction was finished. He tuned out Mrs. Lennin as she found a half dozen different ways of explaining the same boring idea. Instead, he turned his attention to his desk. Bean couldn’t imagine it’d be that hard to hack, but even he was surprised with the ease. He accessed the code and simply deleted the section that forbade him from accessing anything other than the notes function and practice sheets.   
Bean clicked over to the nets and surfed mindlessly, checking what the most prominent commentators were commentating on. I wonder what Peter has been writing, thought Bean. He had become somewhat obsessed with Locke’s columns since being Earthbound. He missed Ender, and it was almost like he could visit Ender through Peter’s writing. They were so similar, Ender and Peter, the same obsessive analysis, the same thinking 10 steps ahead, and they both knew how to win. They were both always ready to win.  
A new essay had appeared. It was titled “Sustaining humanities victory”, Bean read over it intently. It focused on proceeding peacefully in the wake of the victory against the bugger’s. Bean knew it was wishful thinking, but then again, was this intended as idealism? Idealism has its place, Bean knew that, why had Peter Wiggin decided this was the place for it? What had happened to Locke the Realist? If you lose sight of practicality, Peter, you’ll lose your audience.   
Bean clicked over to Demosthenes column page. Of course, there would be a new essay there as well, Peter’s writing must be in response to an essay he’d made as Demosthenes. Bean found the Demosthenes essay he was looking for, it was titled “American priorities in the wake of victory”. It had all of Demosthenes typical fear mongering, it was calling for increasing American defenses and spoke of several countries which should be thought of enemies. China, obviously. Russia, not surprising. India? Yeah, why not? Bean had to hand it to Peter, he was doing well in his new role of writing for Demosthenes. He had Valentine’s voice down almost perfectly.  
Bean understood Locke’s essay better after having read Demosthenes. The idealistic talk of unity was to combat Demosthenes' calls for war. If Peter had any intelligence, and Bean knew he did, he’d be publishing another essay by the end of the day, this one on the logistics of how to call a truce, how to form alliances between the major nations of the world, how to combat the poverty and lack of resources that follow war. Something calling for altruism and strength.   
Finally, Bean checked his Email. A new message from Petra had arrived yesterday. The subject bar reading “The horrors of math class” Bean read the Email with a smile.  
Save me! I’ve just started public school and it’s a fucking nightmare. Armenian is coming back to me decently, but I’m still not fluent. The other kids in this school are lame; they think I’m a celebrity. In math class we’re learning trigonometry. TRIGONOMETRY, Bean. Don’t know if I’ll make it…..  
P.S. I know it’s a long shot, but have you heard from Ender? I haven’t and neither has anyone else from his jeesh (I asked), I’m worried he’s lonely.  
Bean wrote a response immediately.  
Since when are you the type to need saving? I have some bad news for you: you ARE a celebrity. I know, I know, it’s weird. Believe me, I know. Also, I’m really not the person to complain about math class too. Oh, you have to study trig? Cry me a river, Petra. I’m over here in third grade learning the order of operations. We’ve spent an HOUR on the ORDER OF OPERATIONS! I’m sure I won’t make it, either. See you on the other side.  
P.S. No, sorry. But he’s with his sister and it’s only been about a day, if that, for him. Don’t worry about him, the worst of his life is already behind him.   
Of course, it was hypocritical of Bean to tell Petra not to worry about Ender, he was worried about Ender. But then again, if he had even the slightest shot at easing the burden on Petra, or anyone else from Ender’s jeesh, he’d be a monster not to take it.  
Bean was vaguely aware of the fact that Mrs. Lennin had stopped talking, but he hadn’t given any thought to why. He couldn’t have cared less. It wasn’t until she spoke that he realized she was staring at him.  
“Mr. Delphiki, what exactly is it that you deem more important than today’s lesson?”  
That seemed rhetorical, best to not answer.   
“I’m sorry, ma’am” Bean said.  
“I’m waiting for an answer, what was it that was more important than today’s lesson?”  
Wait, she wanted an answer? Well, fine, she asked.   
“Anything, literally anything is more important than me relearning basic arithmetic”  
There was silence. Followed by another moment of silence. Shit, thought Bean. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? He used to be so good at keeping his mouth shut. If he’d pointed out every stupid mistake he saw made in Rotterdam he would have gotten killed. And if he’d always spoken his mind at Battle School he could well have been iced, or at least gotten the crap beaten out of him. Now he was constantly mouthing off. At home, to Mother and Father and Nikolia, and now at school to his teacher. He’d never been patronized before. Never treated like such a child. It got on his nerves, and he couldn’t help but to mouth off.  
Mother was going to be disappointed if he got in trouble on his first day.  
“Ms. Davis, please continue the lesson. Come with me, Mr. Delphiki, we’re walking to the office together” She walked to his desk and attempted to take him by the hand, he jerked his hand away as he stepped down from his seat but Mrs. Lennin still grabbed him by the wrist, she seemed to have her heart set on dragging him to the office by the hand as if he were an ill behaved school boy, which, Bean realized, he indeed was.  
On the walk down to the front office she lectured him. It was something about respect and kindness and how just because he’d been to space didn’t mean he didn’t need to pay attention in class. Bean was busy thinking about Peter, about Locke and Demosthenes, about Petra and Ender and what would happen now that the Bugger war had ended, which countries would be the first to go to war, which major countries would get involved in the turf wars of smaller countries, if any; he was thinking about how the I.F. was adapting following the Bugger wars, if this colonization mission would succeed. He was thinking about a hundred different things, none of which had the slightest to do with respectful tones in the classroom.   
Once they had finally arrived at the front office they were stopped by a middle aged woman seated at a large desk in front of the headmasters office. His assistant, presumably.   
“Mrs. Lennin, you’ll have to wait a moment. Headmaster Paul is in a very important meeting”   
“Will he be long?” asked Mrs. Lennin impatiently.  
“I’m not sure, the gentleman didn’t say. They were from the I.F.” For the first time since getting to this hellhole, Bean’s ears perked up.  
“Why was the I.F. here?”   
“I can hardly disclose that information to a student” she said, seeming appalled Bean even had the nerve to ask.   
“I’m only asking because I think it may be regarding me, I’m Julian Delphiki” he justified.   
“Don’t be so arrogant, Mr. Delphiki. No matter what school you were in before, you are just a regular school child now” Mrs. Lennin said “I should return to my classroom, but please keep an eye on Mr. Delphiki while he waits and please inform Headmaster Paul he is here for speaking very disrespectfully to me in the classroom, not paying attention in class, and hacking his desk”   
“Don’t take the hacking too personally” Bean turned and found himself face to face with Minister of Colonization Hyrum Graff “he got past I.F. firewalls like they were candles, you never stood a chance”  
Bean saluted. He could feel Mrs. Lennin and the assistants mouths falling open, but refused to look at them, he kept his eyes on Graff, who saluted him in return.   
“Hello, sir” Bean had never thought he’d feel relieved to see Graff.  
“Staying out of trouble, Bean?” Graff jesting tone seemed out of place alongside the formality of the I.F. personnel that flanked him on both sides.  
“Trying to, sir,'' Graff smiled in a tired but amused way.  
“It would seem, you need to try a bit harder” Graff turned to address Mrs. Lennin, who was slowly letting go of Bean’s wrist “Now, if you don’t mind, I am going to have to borrow the young Mr. Delphiki. I have reason to believe his life is in danger”


	2. Chapter 2

After dropping the small bomb of Bean’s life possibly being in danger, Graff was silent. They drove in an SUV with Bean, Graff and 4 other agents. Bean had to sit in the middle of the second row with an agent on either side of him, one behind, Graff rode shotgun, and the last agent was driving. The agent sitting to Bean’s right filled him in.   
Various members of Ender’s jeesh have been disappearing, all kidnappings. The first happened midday yesterday when Dink Meeker was taken from his home in Poland. Since then, Fly Molo, Han Su, Tom, Vlad, Alia, and Petra Arkanian have all been taken, with the most recent being Petra, who was taken this morning.   
The agent explaining paused and asked “Do you understand what I’m saying?”  
Graff answered for him “He understands perfectly, what questions do you have, Bean? You must have some”  
“7 members of Ender’s jeesh have been taken. I’m not the only one in danger, Carn and Dumper”  
“Are being put under protection as well”  
“I don’t doubt that, but why are you here, with me? Why are you involved with this at all? What does this have to do with the I.F.? Am I in more danger than them?”  
“Ender’s jeesh are the most famous soldiers in the world, right now. And, having been raised mainly in space, you have some of the weakest national and ethnic loyalties. If somebody is trying to kidnap you, it’s reasonable to suspect they’re building an army. What they intend to do with that army is very much of interest to the I.F.. I’m involved personally because I want to be. I’m with you right now because you may have some helpful, shall we say, insight into the situation. Achilles recently escaped the mental hospital he’d been in, we believe he may be behind this, or is at least involved. You know him the best, we’ll be needing to talk with you about where you think he’ll be going, what he’ll be trying to accomplish. We need to know his next move”  
Bean paused. Graff glanced at him in the rearview mirror, Graff could see the cogs spinning.  
“He’ll need an army,” said Bean.  
“We think he already has one, he didn’t conduct the kidnappings himself” responded the agent on Bean’s left.  
“He would need a team for the kidnappings, he’ll need an army to take over the world. That’s his next move, that’s his play, he wants world domination and nothing short of it. What countries could he make believe he has the best interests of at heart? What country could benefit, or could be made to think they’d benefit, from Achilles? Those’ll be his targets, those are our suspects”  
“We suspect Russian involvement at the moment, though we can’t be sure. Petra’s mom, a neighbor of Vlad’s, and Dink’s younger brother, all of whom witnessed the kidnappings, all describe the kidnappers as having Russian accents” Bean was motionless, oddly so. Graff wanted to reach out, put a hand on Bean’s shoulder, tell him it’d all be okay, that the adults were taking care of things and he didn’t need to worry. But that would be a lie, and Bean would see right through it. Oh Bean, thought Graff, when will this life let you catch a break?   
“What’s going to happen to my family? They could be in danger”  
“We have them in protection, but they’ll be safest away from you. We have them in a separate safe house. If we can neutralize the threat to you, you’ll be reunited” explained the agent to Bean’s left.  
“And if you can’t neutralize Achille? Will I see them again?” Bean’s question hung in the air, unanswered, as Graff and some of the other I.F. personal exchanged looks. Finally, Graff had to say something.   
“I’m sorry” Bean said nothing, Graff spoke again “I’m really sorry”  
“When aren’t you sorry?” Bean snapped, then turned to the window. Why’d you have to say that, Bean? Graff wanted to let it go, and he would have if he was alone with Bean, but he was in front of four subordinates, five if you count Bean, he couldn’t let anything go.   
“Again, Mr. Delphiki, I’m sorry for the difficulty of this situation, but you need to watch your tone. It’d serve you well to remember who your superiors are. If you’re openly insubordinate again, there will be consequences” Graff spoke sternly. Bean gave no sign of having heard him, but Graff didn’t care. That little reprimand had just been for show, and it had commanded the respect of his audience, the I.F. agents, even if it couldn’t have mattered less to Bean.  
It was a long ride to the safe house and Graff hated the way Bean continued to seep anger from his pores. Whether he was pissed about being separated from his family or about Graff’s reprimand of his insubordination, Graff wasn’t sure. Graff had to fight the urge to apologize. The back seat was spacious, it gave Bean enough room to curl his little limbs into fetal position and fall asleep. The anger left his face when he slept and he looked like any other sleeping 8 year old.   
Graff thought of his own son, a child named Dabeet, who was only a couple years older than Bean. He’d never met his son, maybe one day he would. Probably not. For a man who has spent the last half of his professional career surrounded by children, I sure am terrible with them, thought Graff.


End file.
